


At the edge of the school’s rooftop

by hwangkill



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Friends to Lovers, M/M, One Shot, Slow Burn, Underage Smoking, parent loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 12:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19334497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hwangkill/pseuds/hwangkill
Summary: Two granola bars and a certain place on the rooftop was all Minho needed. And space. Minho needed space for his thoughts or he might explode.





	At the edge of the school’s rooftop

**Author's Note:**

> hello! please read the tags before reading the story!

It started out as most of the love stories start; two people meet and exchange any type of interaction. However, this love was a little bit weird even in this part.

 

Lee Minho didn't like his new school. He wasn't easy going, but he had a lot of confidence. Minho was in dance club since he was five, at first forced by his mother since he got a bit chubbier and one of the other mothers in kindergarten; Minho was sure it was Ruby's mom (they moved in to South Korea only three months ago and everyone was in love with them, Americans, showing the differences between the two big cultures); suggested this activity. Since then every monday, wednesday and friday little Minho rushed straight from school to the old gym building two streets away, dancing with Ruby and other kids for one and a half hour then rushed again home to finally eat, surely cold, dinner. At first, it was hard. Minho cried a lot during lessons, after three weeks he sprained his ankle. But he kind of started liking it, doing something different than studying or helping his jobless mother with home chores. They lived in a flat back then but it looked like there was always something to be done.

 

Minho started to enjoy dancing and at age thirteen, he started to go to the old building alone, late after classes, it was opened 24/7 anyways. He would dance until his legs were praying for him to stop, giving up under his weight or his head was too dizzy to continue and he alone was scared of fainting there and being killed while he is unconscious. Minho was a fast learner. He, by months, improved more than the said before Ruby in one year. He was putting a lot of effort and emotion to his moves and the dance teacher fastly enough realized that. From not really liking dancing to loving it and putting it before anything else; that's how it worked for him. When he started high school he danced daily, now it was any type of dance, mostly the freestyle one to the newest twice or bts songs. It was hard to address whether he was in control of the body or his limbs were the one who controlled his brain. The only thing that everyone was sure about was that Minho is an amazing performer.

 

Things got complicated when he and his mother were forced to move out, or maybe he was forced by his mother to move out with her. They didn't live in a poor neighborhood, they had never actually been that poor, but since everything started to grow in price the rent after his dead father was slightly enough to pay all the bills. The first talk ended with a big fight, the same with the three following ones.

 

"Minho we can't stay here, I told you-" his mother would try again and again with the repetitive argument.

 

"And I told you why I can't leave" he would say back, "I can find a job, for god's sake you can find a job!" he would scream even if he didn't mean to. He knew these words shot his mom like bullets but Minho wouldn't give up. Unfortunately, he didn't have a choice.

 

One day when he came back home he was shoved into the bus with two huge travel bags, one carton box and his school backpack on his shoulders, his mother with a similar amount of things.

 

"Is that everything?" he had asked, a stray tear going down his face.

 

"I've been going there for a week now to prepare everything Minho." she had smiled sadly, her wrinkles being more noticeable and her tired eyes focused on young male. "We will have a new home son, we will find home".

 

And as much Minho didn't believe these words, he couldn't do anything than smiling back to his mother, knowing that she deserves more than he could ever give to her.

 

When they arrived it didn’t feel the same. Minho didn’t feel the same. So he would do everything to stay out of the small flat the longest he could. At age fifteen Minho was an always angry teenager, that’s why the moving out fitted him, everything he needed was a sad backstory.

He gave up on dancing, at least on dance classes, that was his way of showing his irritation towards the world. He also closed himself up even more, not like anyone cared anyway.

 

Minho was going through high school alone, always sitting in the first right desk in classes and skipping lunch only to go and sit on a school roof. After a few months a few students found out. From then on he was a psycho. Teachers didn’t care about it though, Minho never broke any other rules and always got A or Bs so they had nothing to be concerned about. 

 

Minho realized he is gay at age seventeen. At this time he had a friend. And an unfortunate crush on a straight boy. He obviously didn't tell anyone, his only friend was trying to get a girlfriend and seemed to be as tolerant as US president. Minho heard a lot of nasty jokes from his mouth but he never said a thing. He was scared. Scared of being alone, scared of hate, scared of rumors and scared of being a disappointment. It wasn't like he didn't hate himself already. His self-esteem was always low, but these days it started to get worse and worse each day. And in fact, he did end up alone this time too. The friend of his was now only exchanging looks when he saw him in a school hall but didn't say a word. Minho knew it has to be that way.

 

Months passed, finally, Minho was a high school senior. Even if he couldn't show it, he was more than happy, for sure the happiest in few last years. Even though he was walking to school alone, every single day with earphones in and his new favorite songs. Minho didn't interact with his classmates at all but no one was surprised at this point. Not like they cared, they obviously didn't. He wasn't the only of the lonely kids in his class, he wasn't even that weird compared to some of them. He was just hard to talk and open up.

 

When the school ring bell rang and announced lunch break Minho found himself climbing up the ladder on the building's roof. It was his place now, the few past months all his lunch breaks looked the same. Minho would go on the roof, sit on the least seen spot and took out of his backpack two energy bars and can of iced coffee. Then he would eat and stare at the school life's fables; how a few boys hide with their cigarettes on the back of the building and how a desperate couple runs to one of them's car to later lock the doors and play loud music. He watches a lot, sometimes it's even funnier than melodramas when best friends argue in the center of the car park or how teachers go on the patio only to ask always the same group of students to sell them cigarettes or joints. He always observes however he's trying to stay the most out of view as possible. Minho wouldn't enjoy being dropped out or accused of weird things just because he needs his private space. He sometimes hates the fact that he does need it.

 

He was slowly munching on the chocolate chip energy bar when he heard a well-known ping of the old wooden door. Minho panicked, not knowing what to do. His mind went wild in a second, he didn't know if he should hide or just stay silent; on the other hand, there was no place to hide.

 

From his spot, he could see a small figure in a hoodie with the hood too far up his forehead, almost on his eyes, a young looking boy, probably first year, entering the roof like it's a natural thing. However, he didn't act so natural only the second after. The unknown male closed the door behind him and immediately dropped on his knees, loud moans escaping his lips as he started to cry. His body started to tremble, his shaky hands messed with the ruffled hair on his forehead and the only sounds he was leaving were broken sobs. Minho felt uneven. He felt like he interrupted someone's space now, not the other way around. He wanted to say something, but as long as Minho could easily learn anything, he was never good at words, not saying about starting a conversation.

 

Fortunately or not, the stranger suddenly turned his head up to the side of Minho's hidden place, blinking a few times in disbelief.

 

"Hello?" his voice was shaky and rough but even now Minho found it pretty. Like a flower after the rain. Slowly building up again but still beautiful. "Is anyone there or am I seeing things now? Oh well maybe I'm truly a psycho" he chuckled, a stray tear following the ones that left his eyes before. He looked broken. Unbearably broken. 

 

"Hello?" he said again. Not a single sound. Minho couldn't force himself.

 

Instead, he just stood up from his place and took his backpack packing his lunch and rushing to the door. He didn't even recognize kid's face and he hoped younger haven't seen his too.

 

Days passed and Minho didn't enter his favorite place, too scared of meeting the stranger again. He just sat in a toilet cabin and ate his granola bars in silence, sometimes watching a music video between bites. It wasn't that bad to be there but still - it wasn't his place. And he needed his place. He just felt insecure.

 

It's been a week since the accident when Minho finally grew the courage. He didn't know what to expect while climbing the same old ladder and opening the whistling ugly door.

 

He didn't even realize he was holding his breath until now, breathing out with a long sigh. Minho sat in his regular place, maybe hiding a little more to the side, scared that his silence will be interrupted again. He just needed space.

 

He hummed when strawberry flavor hit his tongue and let himself close his eyes and enjoy the moment. Minho sometimes thought he is sick. Mentally sick. Since a ung age he didn't do well with peers, he just rejected any type of contact with other kids. He wondered if it's still the "trauma" what the therapist called during their first - and last - meeting right after Minho's father death. Minho knew it couldn't be trauma. He knew not only because it was so long ago it would for sure vanish but he also knew he didn't have any trauma at all. Since he remembered Lee Minho senior was working for the foreign company, as it normally is, in a foreign country. Minho didn't even know what country but he also never asked. As long as his father brought him a lot of sweets and small toys for christmas he was happy. Or he thought he is. The only thing Minho knew was that he can't miss his father since he never really felt like he has one. So it definitely couldn't have been trauma.

 

Minho shook his head. He decided to focus on his strawberry granola bar for now.

 

He was unwrapping the second one when he felt like in deja-vu, again opening the door and shutting them in a hurry. The same young boy as before stood up next to the door, putting his feet on a wall behind him and taking something from his front pocket. The hoodie was replaced with a neat white t-shirt and dark washed denim jacket while his thin legs were wrapped in black ripped jeans. The stranger finally stopped fighting with his pocket, now placing a single cigarette in his thin, heart-shaped lips. Soon enough a lighter flashed and Minho could smell the awful smell of smoke even from his dirty, small spot. He totally didn't mean to, moreover, he wished it didn't happen, but as soon as the smoke hit his nostrils he started coughing, every second more and more. It was impossible now to not notice him, yet he tried his best.

 

"Hello?" he heard the same voice, instead now it wasn't that rough - the opposite - it was sweet and firm like honey. "I saw you. It's okay if you wanna leave. Just..." he stuttered, Minho could hear his voice from a lot closer now. "Just please don't tell anyone that I was here and I was..." he shut again and Minho looked up suddenly gasping when he saw the stranger's face right above him. Younger gestured to the cigarette in his fingers, some of the ash falling right onto Minho's jeans. "Don't tell about this" he looked down, surely embarrassed, his ears turning red.

 

Minho cleared his throat. He wanted to say something. He wanted to assure the younger his secret is safe. But yet again it was so hard to force himself to speak. He shook his head lightly, the stranger was looking at him anyways.

 

"Wait... are you mute??" the other asked, his eyes wide, taking another blow of his cigarette. "I heard that someone here is mute, oh my god if it's you and now I'm making an idiot out of myself and telling you to not tell anyone... oh my god... I'm so sorry... I'm so stupid, what have I done?" he turned around but his ramble didn't stop, only getting worse. Minho wanted to stop him. Minho needed to stop him. 

 

"I-" he started but the sound itself was so silent he barely even heard it himself. "I'm not mute" he said with more force now, shredding a little and standing up. He was a bit taller than the younger, also a bit chubbier. To be honest, the only chubby thing the other got was his puffy cheeks. Minho was about to repeat himself when the stranger turned around and faced him, his eyes glossy, almost crying and his bottom lip trembling.

 

"Wow... I'm- I'm sorry even more now" his whispers were followed by a few shrugs and his hand angrily scratching his neck. He looked down again taking a step back. And another one. It was awkward. Awfully awkward and upsetting and they both knew it. So Minho did what he always does when he's anxious - he left before younger could say anything more. 

 

It was a regular thingnow. Minho accepted to share the roof on lunch breaks with the junior. Both of them did say anything, Minho came back to enjoying his granola bars and panicked smoker - as Minho started to call him - was still smoking, always the same type of awfully smelling cigarettes but this time he didn't blow smoke the same way. They didn't exchange any words, any of them knew how to start the conversation so they silently agreed on the situation they were in.

 

One day something changed though, Minho came on the roof and sat on his favorite place taking out the energy bars. He unpacked one starting to eat it slowly and waiting for the younger to come. He always came after Minho.

 

It's been ten minutes now, Minho was staring blindly at the door, still waiting for younger to come. He was getting nervous and he didn't even know why. He thought about the last month; how he would wait each bring day to the lunch break for the junior to come, his bright eyes always shining, and just stand next to the door to smoke one cigarette. Minho never really realized that somehow he doesn't feel the smoke anymore and he can enjoy his lunch at it's finest. When he would finish his second granola bar, younger would finish his cigarette as well, chuckling and sliding on a dirty wall to sit in the exact place he was standing before. They would just sit there for the rest of the break in full silence, sometimes the other would just laugh randomly or sniffle his nose. Minho appreciated this. Minho appreciated that even if he wasn't alone anymore, he didn't feel like something changed. He could still call it the same.

 

When it was twenty minutes Minho started to worry. He didn't think he should but young dancer just couldn't stand the feeling of something being off. He didn't even care of himself doing something wrong as he always did; he was scared something bad had happened to his cute odd stranger. But he knew there was nothing he could do; he didn't know his name and there was a lot of brown haired, thin boys in younger classes. The situation was helpless and made him angry. He didn't want to know why but he felt mad.

 

A few minutes more passed and Minho felt sick. Now he felt like a disappointment. The voices in his head were loud and even if he didn't understand a single thing it was right to cry. His head was so heavy and hurtful, he only felt pain. His mind started to play tricks on him, showing him memories of his broken friendship, him and the other boy having fun. Him being opened up to someone. Him trusting someone. Minho found it hard to sit in place when his whole soul wanted to leave his body. He only felt pain and it was growing more and more. He covered his ears and closed his eyes trying to cool down, to escape his thoughts and silence them. He needed silence. He needed space. 

 

As minutes were passing by he didn't know he started to cry. His sobs were audible and his trembling figure easy noticeable from the spot next to the door... Minho opened his eyes. He was in his bed, the duvet wet from his sweat and his forehead hot. He didn’t know what was going on, still caught on breath shaking his head to erase the nightmare from his memory. Why would he dream about the stranger? Why would he dream about the school rooftop? Was it even a dream? It all felt so realistic, him breaking in panic, cold wind hitting his rosy cheeks and the sound of flying sparrows everywhere around the school windows. It felt so real Minho couldn’t believe it wasn’t. He started to think younger boy is only a thing from his imagination, a creature his weak mind made to make him feel less lonely. Minho broke in tears that night again. For now cute little stranger felt more artificial than real so Minho did what he was doing best. He closed his eyes and let them lead him to another place, this time around hopefully in somewhere happier.

 

The next day Minho didn’t go to school. He skipped without his mom knowing, in fact without anyone knowing; he felt like it would be better that way. He stayed in his room for the whole day though, changing only a few minutes before his mother came back to represent himself as normal as possible. He was hurt. Hurt both, physically and mentally. Overwhelmed by the thoughts attacking his head. He felt sick. In his mind nothing seemed real anymore.

 

The next day Minho’s anxiety took the lead, making him look even more weird than he already was known as. He didn’t care, didn’t even notice since the only thing on his mind was to run on the rooftop as fast as the ring bell announce the lunch break.

When he finally heard it he didn’t bother to stop anywhere, just running through the school hall to the back doors and the old ladder. Student rushed through the steps and opened the door with a long sigh sitting not in his regular place, but in other’s boy place instead. 

 

He took out his first granola bar and started to chew it looking once on the door and once at everything in front of him. The warm autumn finally started to fade into the feeling of cold winter air and blowing wind. Even the roof was extremely cold but it didn’t stop Minho from sitting there. The group of school’s smokers was a lot smaller now - most of them actually chose their health and comfort over a nasty habit of smoking the cheapest cigarettes in overwhelming small place between the school building and metal fence. For a while Minho thought his rooftop friend chose the same too, but then he heard well known creak of the old wooden boards.

 

“Hi there” he heard and looked up at the owner of the honey-like voice. Stranger was wearing a huge gray hoodie and black jeans. He also styled his fringe differently. Or maybe Minho never noticed earlier. “You weren’t at school yesterday, right?” stranger asked. His voice sounded so polite and nice Minho wanted to scream. He missed talking to people. But he also didn’t want to get hurt. “Are you taking this place now?” younger chuckled still looking at him. Their eyes crossed for a second and Minho thought he could seen the pain in them. 

 

Suddenly his head felt dizzy. He knew he wouldn’t be friends with someone if he won’t talk at all. Small steps, something whispered, small steps.

 

So he did took a step.

 

“I— I was waiting for you” he whispered, his tone way lower than the other’s one but it didn’t matter since younger was kneeling in front of him now. Minho was looking at his hands the whole time. “I’m Minho” he said in soft tone finally getting courage to look up.

 

The boy was smiling at him softly, not only with his lips but also with his eyes.

 

“Hello Minho, I’m Jisung” he introduced himself and right after that older felt a warm, soft hand landing on top of his own. Jisung held like that for a while not even making a sound. It felt nice. Minho felt nice knowing that he’s not imagining things. Minho felt nice knowing that Jisung was real.

 

 

It was like that for a few next weeks. Just them sitting beside the doors, exchanging a few words total each time but for Minho it was a huge step and for Jisung it was enough. He got quite talkative some days but as soon as he realized he was already shutting up. 

 

After a few weeks weather changed even more being unbearably cold, for sure too cold to sit outside in only a hoodie or a jean jacket. Minho was pretty sure all the smokers gave up too, he at least knew Jisung did and from what he learned until this time, younger was a heavy type of smokers. One day when they were sitting up there and Jisung had one of these talking along episodes he ranted about a group of, how he thought back then, friends, who made him smoke only to make fun of him later. However, after months of hanging out with them he got somewhat addicted, even if he was regretting it now.

 

Minho wasn’t best at words so he just held on Jisung’s hand knowing damn well that younger is into skin ship and it makes him relax (Jisung told that Minho before) and Jisung couldn’t be more thankful. They fitted perfectly, not fitting at all but Jisung knew they could fix that.

 

The last day before the total frost they weren’t sitting anymore; in fear of catching a cold; both just standing next to each other in warm hoodies and gloves on their hands. Jisung was finishing his cigarette while Minho was only pouting at him without acknowledging it.

 

“Hey? What’s with that pout?” younger asked, accidentally blowing the smoke onto Minho’s face. It made an immediate reaction; the older started coughing to the point he almost choked and Jisung couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Ahhh sorry” he whispered, his head turned to the other side now. However he sent a look to Minho, his brows raised in question.

 

“Hurry. It’s cold here” Minho only said and closed his mouth again shaking a little to prove his point. He felt like his eyelashes are going to freeze.

 

“I’m done” Jisung said after a second turning up to face his friend “but hyung? where will we meet from now on? it’s too cold on here” he asked with a worry. 

 

Jisung wasn’t always an insecure child. The otherwise, he was an expressive and loud child. A really loud child. In his primary school his parents were often getting calls about their son’s behavior, always scared that he failed a class or fought someone but it always was the same. “Jisung is too loud. He talks too much” they would have said of course in front of small boy who didn’t even know what it means back then. Later on, Jisung learned. Jisung learned not to express his feelings so widely, learned not to scream with excitement, learned not to answer every question teachers were asking. He learned to be a normal, statistical child, he learned how to be the child they wanted him to be.

 

Jisung didn’t live in bad conditions, he didn’t like this words; he used to say he lived in understatement and conservative culture where new and colorful was scary. He was never a pessimist, even when middle school came and he started to hang out with the “emo” kids, trying alcohol and cigarettes and kissing girls on collarbones and losing himself instead of finding. He was never an upset child and he never protested to his parents. However, the patch of freak sticked to him for good and where he would show up, there everyone already knew who he was.

 

Now Jisung was scared. Scared about Minho’s social position because of showing up with him. Scared about rejection from Minho. And scared about the hate towards Minho because of hanging out with him.

 

“You know...” he continued, they were still standing there, facing each other, faces only inches apart, Jisung’s warm breathe on Minho’s cheek. “I told you about... how they treat me...” he looked down. Jisung and Minho grew up really close these past few weeks. Minho thought it’s the closest he had ever been to someone, even though he didn’t even use that many words. It felt like him and the younger just needed each other’s presence to understand what’s going in their heads.

 

Minho caught Jisung’s hand in his intertwining their fingers in warm black gloves.

 

“I won’t reject you” he said looking at Jisung’s face. At Jisung’s small but plump lips, Jisung’s straight, cute nose. At Jisung’s too long now fringe. And finally straight into Jisung’s galaxy eyes. He really liked those eyes. Minho sometimes felt like he would disappear in a different world if he will stare for too long. Now Jisung’s eyes lighten up like they were when he was telling an exciting story and Minho felt at ease. It was nice to be with him there, to be with Jisung. Soon enough, older was embraced in a huge bear hug, feeling warm not only outside but also inside.

 

“Ahhh, come on!” he said after a while even if he himself didn’t want to let go of Jisung’s small figure. “It’s cold here!”

 

 

Winter passed by, now the bits of snow were melting and creating slops everywhere. Minho didn’t like this part of the year. Not only he had to change all of his habits for more sunny weather and longer days, but also his finals were coming up, not giving him a chance to catch a slow breathe. 

 

Him and Jisung started to come on the rooftop again, now observing and commenting the school’s life together, joking around and giggling in each other’s private space. Minho felt free and he looked brighter - at least that’s what Jisung told him.

 

Now he was bringing on the rooftop four granola bars - two chocolate chip ones for Jisung - and he didn’t have to turn away from awful smell of cigarettes anymore.

 

Jisung looked a lot healthier too. And he wasn’t stopping himself anymore from telling Minho his long (and sometimes boring) life stories.

 

 

In the middle of Minho’s exams time something went wrong. It was spring already, warm wind blowing on their exposed arms while both of them were wearing short sleeve tees and knee length shorts. Jisung lightly kicked his friend with his knee, getting huge bites of Minho’s last strawberry granola bar when he wasn’t looking.

 

“What’s wrong hyung?” he asked, mouth still full of oats and freeze-dried strawberry. Minho looked at him with his eyes wide open, like woke up from a dream. Or a nightmare. “I know you’re stressed about your finals but I feel like something is up” he grabbed older’s hand in his two warming it up.

 

Minho was thinking about it for a long time now. How he felt around Jisung and how he trusted his friend. Minho was thinking about how he changed from treating him like a dongsaeng to feeling something more towards him. Minho was thinking of how his hand truly matched Jisung’s smaller one and how he felt safe even when he knew Jisung couldn’t fight a fly.

 

Yet he was scared. Minho trusted Jisung and knew Jisung won’t hurt him but they never talked about each other’s sexuality.

 

“Minho hyung?” younger repeated himself and Minho bit on his lower lip, automatically feeling the metallic taste of his blood.

 

Older looked up forgetting about everything for a while, everything but not Jisung holding firmly on his left hand like he’s going to disappear in a second.

 

“I really like you Jisungie” he whispered softly looking at younger’s lips. They were the same plush and pink as always but now he had a few crumbs from the granola bar on his lower lip. Minho took his thumb to Jisung’s lip shaking off the pieces of oats and smiling widely. “You’re such a mess” he laughed and Jisung followed, both of their bodies vibrating next to each other.

 

“I— I’m gay Jisungie” he finally said looking down on their exposed knees and the edge line of their denim black shorts. 

 

Younger only laughed and put one of his hands on Minho’s chin trying to gently pull it up, to make Minho look at him.

 

“That’s awesome” he smiled with his eyes again and a gummy smile appeared on his lips. “I actually have someone on eye” he whispered right into Minho’s ear and the older froze.

 

“Oh...” he finally stammered, looking down again. He didn’t know what to do but before his mind could start to worry he felt a plush wet thing on his lips, a hot feeling spreading across his cheeks when Jisung placed his hand on his neck and moved his lips a bit. Minho reacted, continuing the sweet kiss, feeling strawberry and chocolate on his mouth and immediately smiling causing Jisung to break up.

 

“I really really like you too Minho hyung” he smiled kissing Minho’s nose.

 

Next thing Minho registered was a hot burn inside his chest and a strange feeling of being complete.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading it! that was such a wild thought that came to my mind and i hope you liked it! please leave a comment and please correct me at any mistakes!! lots of love uwu


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